Fic: Memory Will Hallow All, Giles/Wesley, R (FRM)
Title: Memory Will Hallow All
Author: lostgirlslair
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: R (FRM)
Summary: Giles and Wesley reminisce. Sixth story in my Second Glances Verse.
Spoilers/Setting: Between BtVS seasons 3 and 4, with specific mentions of Doppelgangland.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
Big, huge thanks to helenkacan, for the fabulous beta magic! This fic is for mireille719, who wanted to know more about this bit. Have a wonderful birthday, sweetie! I hope it's filled with wonderful things! (And I entirely understand if you don't read this for a while yet. *G*)
Wesley leaned against the doorjamb while Rupert finally managed to get the key in the lock and let them inside. After spending four hours trapped inside a crypt until Buffy arrived and they could finish the spell, they were both exhausted. Unfortunately, they couldn't fall into bed just yet.
Wesley limped in after Rupert, tossing his jacket onto the coat rack.
"A drink first?" Rupert asked. Wesley only nodded his assent. His throat hurt too much for useless words. They'd had to chant continuously for nearly an hour, just to keep the spell from collapsing before Buffy could reach them. Of course, it hadn't helped that one of the demons had tried to strangle him.
Grimacing as he lowered himself into Rupert's desk chair, Wesley took the glass of water Rupert held out to him. Rupert leaned against the edge of the desk, holding his own glass.
Wesley leaned back, trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair. He stretched his legs out, one on either side of Rupert's, and took a long swallow from his glass.
"I suppose we should hurry this up," he said, his voice hoarse and gravelly. When Wesley looked up, he found his lover staring at him with a quirked smile on his lips. "What?"
Rupert shrugged, still smiling. "Your voice."
"I know," Wesley said with a sigh. "I sound like a bullfrog."
"I rather like it."
Wesley snorted, lifting an eyebrow at Rupert, who only shrugged and took another sip of his water. Wesley laughed and that was just as hoarse, if not more so.
"You're an odd man, Rupert Giles." Wesley bumped Rupert's knee with his own, smiling fondly.
"Perhaps," Rupert lifted one shoulder in a shrug, "but I don't think you have a clear idea of how you sound."
Wesley rolled his eyes, though he felt the blush rising in his cheeks. Rupert seemed to like to tease him, like to get that reaction out of him, though Wesley had no idea why that should be.
"Let's get cleaned up," Wesley finally managed, putting his glass aside. It was going to take a small lake's worth of water before his throat felt any better. "I'm rather done in."
Rupert nodded, setting aside his own glass and giving Wesley a small smile before rising to get the first aid kit. They were both in need of it tonight, though there wasn't anything terribly serious. Just scrapes that should be cleaned and bruises that would have to be endured.
Wesley's legs had gotten the worst of it. He'd skidded across a broken stone floor after Buffy had killed the demon that had been strangling him. With a small groan, Wesley slipped off his trousers, hesitating for only a heartbeat as he considered how that might look to Rupert. Then Wesley shook his head at himself and tossed his trousers onto the back of the couch. His right knee was bloody with scrapes, but the left was even worse. It wouldn't need stitches, thankfully, but it did need to be cleaned and bandaged.
Rupert came from the hallway with the first aid kit in hand, but he stopped a few feet away from Wesley. And he was smirking. Wesley's mouth went dry at the sight of that expression. He knew that look and, sure enough, there was a glint of mischief in Rupert's eyes.
"Yes?" Wesley said, though it came out rather more breathlessly than he'd intended. Breathless and hoarse. Lovely.
Rupert shook his head, nodding toward Wesley's legs. "I was momentarily thrust into the past."
Wesley glanced down at himself and laughed, only to stop quickly when it hurt too much. It seemed like years ago that he'd stumbled to Rupert's flat with a vampire bite in his thigh and a very large chip on his shoulder. Wesley hadn't even imagined, then, that it would turn out this way. "Well, I'm not planning on stealing anything tonight."
"That's a relief," Rupert said as he knelt down in front of Wesley, setting the first aid kit on the desk and opening it. He smiled and Wesley couldn't look away for a moment, couldn't stop remembering that first night, when Rupert hadn't smiled at him like that.
It made his stomach twist with remembered embarrassment, and even a little fresh discomfort. He couldn't regret it, though, not now that he and Rupert had worked it all out. Other memories rushed forward as Rupert began cleaning the scrapes. It stung, but Wesley had been through much worse and he held still, for the most part.
One particular memory pushed its way forward and Wesley smiled, reaching out a hand to tap Rupert on the temple. Rupert looked up at him, and Wesley blushed with the thought of what he was about to ask.
"Once, um, back then, you mentioned that . . . Uh, that you thought of me that night, after . . ." He wasn't sure what else to say. In fact, he seemed to have run out of words entirely. There was that mischievous tilt to Rupert's smile again.
"I did. Would you like to hear about it?"
Wesley opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. "Now?" he finally sputtered, unable to keep himself from returning Rupert's grin.
"Well, all right, if you insist," Rupert said, turning his eyes back to Wesley's scrapes.
"I wasn't--" Wesley began, but he decided to simply drop his protest when Rupert continued.
"You weren't bad company that night, and it had been such a long day. For about half an hour, we'd thought Willow was dead, a vampire. I ...."
"I remember. The vampire version of her attacked me at the high school." Wesley looked back on that now and cringed, but he knew that that misunderstanding must have upset Rupert very much. Willow and Xander were second only to Buffy in Rupert's esteem.
Rupert nodded, but didn't comment on that part of the night. His touch was gentle as he cleaned the scrapes, and his voice was husky as he continued.
"I'd just gone to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept . . . I kept thinking about Willow and what could have happened . . ." Rupert shook his head, giving Wesley a small smile as he reached for another antiseptic pad. "I was trying to think of anything but Willow and you popped into my head. Our conversation had been pleasant, if not thrilling, and you hadn't once criticized my methods or questioned my ability to do my job."
"I wasn't thrilling?" Wesley interrupted, feigning a look of affront. Rupert patted his thigh, well above the scrapes, and shrugged.
"We were only just getting to actually know one another and you were half-drunk, at least."
Wesley chuckled and then groaned as Rupert hit a particularly painful patch of abraded flesh. Rupert's voice quickly took his mind from the pain, though. "I thought of you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub with one leg of your trousers cut off, gripping a glass of Scotch as if it might save your life."
"I see," Wesley said, suddenly unsure he wanted to hear the story at all. Rupert hadn't thought much of him, then, and . . ."It must have been rather comical," he allowed, though he wasn't happy about the admission.
"Not really," Rupert said, his thumb brushing lightly over the only bit of undamaged skin on Wesley's right knee. "I did find it amusing, at first, but ... I'd been in that position myself more than once."
"What position?" Wesley had a sudden mental image of Rupert limping home from a fight, only with no one to patch him up. Rupert wouldn't go to the children, after all, and some things were hard to explain to a nurse. That had been the very reason that Wesley had gone to Rupert but, before he'd come to Sunnydale, where had Rupert had to go to?
"Wounded, unable to go to hospital, unwilling to go to Buffy," Rupert shrugged, but Wesley very much did not like that thought. "Although, you did succeed in outdoing me in one area," Rupert glanced up at him, and Wesley raised an eyebrow in question. "I'd never been wounded in quite so embarrassing a place."
Wesley sighed, but found himself smiling. The way Rupert looked at him as he said it, the way he was cleaning away the blood, Wesley knew Rupert didn't mean for the words to sting.
"Then, I thought of the look on your face when I'd knelt to see to the stitching." Rupert paused in his ministrations, but didn't look up. "I'd almost been worried that you'd faint. Not from the pain, you didn't seem to notice that, but the look on your face . . ." Rupert shook his head, going back to cleaning the scrapes. "I thought I'd seen . . . I don't know, a glimmer of interest?"
"Oh, I'd say it was well more than a glimmer," Wesley said, snorting and reaching down to brush his fingers through Rupert's hair. Rupert laughed, pressing into the light touch.
"I didn't know that. I thought you were entirely straight." Wesley snorted but, when Rupert looked up with a question on his face, he only motioned for Rupert to go on.
"I thought I was trying to turn things into something that would suit me better. I kept thinking of you lying down here on that lumpy sofa, still bewildered, your eyes far too wide for your own damned good."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wesley laughed, shaking his head as Rupert gave him a fond glare.
"You should look in the mirror more often," Rupert mumbled, though Wesley wasn't sure what that meant, either. "I'd been half hard since I'd lain down to sleep and, well, thinking of you hadn't really helped."
Wesley's laughter fled, his eyes fixed on Rupert's face, on the small smile Rupert had even as he finished with the right knee and went on to the left. Wesley couldn't help the way his stomach fluttered as he pictured it. Rupert lying up in his bed, his cock hardening at the thought of . . . Wesley tried to blink away the image when he realized that Rupert was talking again.
"--I'd had to bite down on my lip as I reached down to stroke myself. I didn't want to risk even a small sound. You know how sound carries here."
Wesley nodded mutely, his mind filled with the picture Rupert was creating. Rupert hadn't known what Wesley was getting up to down here. In Rupert's mind, Wesley had just been lying on the sofa and might have heard a gasp or a groan. Wesley shifted in the chair again, his cock beginning to harden at the thought, at the image of Rupert stroking himself just upstairs.
"I thought of you sitting on the edge of the bathtub while I knelt between your thighs. Just like this, actually."
Wesley opened his eyes at that, found Rupert looking up at him with dark, passion-filled eyes. Tension stretched between them as their gazes met. The room seemed filled with it, charged with it, and Wesley wanted to reach out, to touch Rupert's lips, to bring his own down for a kiss. He kept himself still through sheer stubbornness. He wanted to hear the rest of the story more than he wanted a kiss.
"In my fantasy, I looked up and found you watching me. You were flushed, but it wasn't from embarrassment." Rupert held Wesley's gaze. Wesley couldn't have looked away had a demon come crashing through the door. "I remember that my hand was resting on your knee, at the time, and I imagined running it upward, feeling warm skin and then the ragged edge of your trousers." Rupert's fingers slid along the inside of Wesley's thigh, demonstrating.
Wesley's cock throbbed and he had to stifle a groan, squirming in the chair as Rupert's fingers brushed over the growing bulge in his boxers. Wesley's eyes fluttered, but didn't close, not completely. He watched without a word as Rupert slipped his fingers inside, skimming them along Wesley's straining cock.
Wesley whimpered and Rupert swallowed hard, his fingers tracing the underside of Wesley's shaft, his thumb rubbing over the head before skimming slowly downward. Wesley's body felt tight, his muscles bunched and taut. Rupert kept looking at him and Wesley couldn't seem to draw in enough breath. He swallowed hard, only barely managing to say, "Keep talking."
Rupert grinned, his fingers sliding down Wesley's cock to brush lightly over his balls. "I pictured this, too. Watching you as your head tilted back, seeing your body strain forward, eager for me to touch you."
"God, yes," Wesley groaned, arching his hips up to get more of Rupert's far-too-light touches.
Rupert's breathing had grown ragged, too, and Wesley loved knowing he'd had that effect on Rupert, that Rupert was watching him like this and it excited him.
"I thought about something else, too," Rupert said, and Wesley found himself staring at Rupert's lips as they formed the words. Rupert wrapped his fingers around Wesley's cock, squeezing lightly. Wesley moaned, hips arching and heart pounding. "I thought of you hearing me, because I couldn't keep myself from groaning. Thought of you coming upstairs."
Wesley realized his hands were clenched tight on the arms of the chair, but he couldn't make himself let go. His cock throbbed in Rupert's grip and Rupert squeezed again, just a little harder. Wesley found himself panting. He needed more, needed to feel Rupert stroking him, feel Rupert's skin beneath his own hands. If he moved at all he knew he was going to give in, to pounce on Rupert, and then he might never hear the end of this particular story.
"You saw what I was doing, saw me touching myself, and your eyes widened. I even imagined the flush that would creep up your neck." Rupert reached his free hand up, brushing it along the collar of Wesley's shirt. Wesley ducked his head, licking a line up Rupert's finger and sucking it into his mouth. Rupert groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. His grip tightened around Wesley's aching cock and Wesley arched up as Rupert began stroking him in earnest.
Wesley swirled his tongue around Rupert's finger, exploring each knuckle before pulling back to suck on the tip. Rupert seemed to have trouble catching his breath. His eyes opened, but it was a moment before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was nearly as hoarse as Wesley's.
"In my fantasy, you stood there, your mouth open with no words coming out. Then you stepped toward the bed. Your eyes had focused on my hand, on the rough strokes of it around my cock."
Wesley moaned and Rupert's finger slipped from his lips. He tilted his head back, his hips arching up, demanding more. Rupert's strokes sped, the friction and heat sending jolts of pleasure through Wesley's body. He groaned, savoring the images Rupert made with his words, savoring the slow build of the fantasy while heat pooled in his groin and sparks lit along his nerves.
"I imagined you taking another halting step forward, swallowing so hard I could see your Adam's apple bob." Rupert's free hand slid down, rubbing briefly over one shirt-covered nipple before slipping lower to cup Wesley's balls. On each upstroke Rupert paused to swipe his thumb over the head of Wesley's cock. Each slick stroke made Wesley's heart pump faster, made his balls tighten.
"I pictured you watching me, pictured your tongue darting out along your lips. I wondered how your mouth would feel, so hot around my cock." Rupert's fingers were slick with pre-cum as he tugged and squeezed Wesley's cock. His other hand rolled Wesley's balls, dragging a whimper from Wesley's strained throat. Wesley choked back a groan as sensation flooded his body. "I imagined you taking that final step, felt you sit on the edge of my bed as you put a tentative hand on my thigh."
Rupert's voice filled his ears, painted pictures in his head, and Wesley moved his hips in time with Rupert's hand, arching harder and harder as he sped toward orgasm.
"You slid your fingers up my thigh and brushed against my cock. I imagined reaching out and taking your hand, guiding it round the shaft."
Wesley gasped, his eyes moving up to Rupert's face. Rupert's eyes were even darker, and Wesley knew that, had he been able to see, he'd have found Rupert hard. Wesley's body shook with the need to come. His blood rushed through his veins so quickly it sounded like static in his ears and he had to strain to hear Rupert.
"Your grip was light but, God, the look on your face made up for it. You were flushed, want naked in your eyes. The sounds you made, Wes ...." Rupert grinned, his fist tightening around Wesley's cock until it was just on the good side of painful. "I was right about that. They do drive me mad."
The orgasm slammed into Wesley hard. His body went taut with it, his hips and back arching as he came. He'd bitten his lip to keep quiet and he tasted blood, but it barely registered over the lightning that sparked beneath his skin. He groaned, shuddering as Rupert's hand kept moving, drawing out his orgasm.
"Oh, God, Rupert." Wesley let out a shuddering sigh and went still in the chair except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Rupert slipped his hands from Wesley's boxers, wiped them on an extra flannel from the first aid kit, and then cleaned Wesley off with gentle strokes. "I think we're done here. Why don't we go upstairs?"
Wesley gave a hoarse chuckle, sitting up though his body felt almost too boneless to achieve the feat, and finally leaned in for that kiss. Rupert's lips clung to his, warm and firm. Wesley raised a hand to rub along the light stubble of Rupert's jaw and his free hand slid down Rupert's chest, down to cup Rupert's cock.
"Oh, no," Wesley whispered against Rupert's jaw. "Now it's my turn to see to your . . . wounds."
Rupert laughed and Wesley smiled against his lover's neck. It seemed there were a few more things they needed to do, before falling exhausted into bed.
Author: lostgirlslair
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: R (FRM)
Summary: Giles and Wesley reminisce. Sixth story in my Second Glances Verse.
Spoilers/Setting: Between BtVS seasons 3 and 4, with specific mentions of Doppelgangland.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
Big, huge thanks to helenkacan, for the fabulous beta magic! This fic is for mireille719, who wanted to know more about this bit. Have a wonderful birthday, sweetie! I hope it's filled with wonderful things! (And I entirely understand if you don't read this for a while yet. *G*)
Wesley leaned against the doorjamb while Rupert finally managed to get the key in the lock and let them inside. After spending four hours trapped inside a crypt until Buffy arrived and they could finish the spell, they were both exhausted. Unfortunately, they couldn't fall into bed just yet.
Wesley limped in after Rupert, tossing his jacket onto the coat rack.
"A drink first?" Rupert asked. Wesley only nodded his assent. His throat hurt too much for useless words. They'd had to chant continuously for nearly an hour, just to keep the spell from collapsing before Buffy could reach them. Of course, it hadn't helped that one of the demons had tried to strangle him.
Grimacing as he lowered himself into Rupert's desk chair, Wesley took the glass of water Rupert held out to him. Rupert leaned against the edge of the desk, holding his own glass.
Wesley leaned back, trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair. He stretched his legs out, one on either side of Rupert's, and took a long swallow from his glass.
"I suppose we should hurry this up," he said, his voice hoarse and gravelly. When Wesley looked up, he found his lover staring at him with a quirked smile on his lips. "What?"
Rupert shrugged, still smiling. "Your voice."
"I know," Wesley said with a sigh. "I sound like a bullfrog."
"I rather like it."
Wesley snorted, lifting an eyebrow at Rupert, who only shrugged and took another sip of his water. Wesley laughed and that was just as hoarse, if not more so.
"You're an odd man, Rupert Giles." Wesley bumped Rupert's knee with his own, smiling fondly.
"Perhaps," Rupert lifted one shoulder in a shrug, "but I don't think you have a clear idea of how you sound."
Wesley rolled his eyes, though he felt the blush rising in his cheeks. Rupert seemed to like to tease him, like to get that reaction out of him, though Wesley had no idea why that should be.
"Let's get cleaned up," Wesley finally managed, putting his glass aside. It was going to take a small lake's worth of water before his throat felt any better. "I'm rather done in."
Rupert nodded, setting aside his own glass and giving Wesley a small smile before rising to get the first aid kit. They were both in need of it tonight, though there wasn't anything terribly serious. Just scrapes that should be cleaned and bruises that would have to be endured.
Wesley's legs had gotten the worst of it. He'd skidded across a broken stone floor after Buffy had killed the demon that had been strangling him. With a small groan, Wesley slipped off his trousers, hesitating for only a heartbeat as he considered how that might look to Rupert. Then Wesley shook his head at himself and tossed his trousers onto the back of the couch. His right knee was bloody with scrapes, but the left was even worse. It wouldn't need stitches, thankfully, but it did need to be cleaned and bandaged.
Rupert came from the hallway with the first aid kit in hand, but he stopped a few feet away from Wesley. And he was smirking. Wesley's mouth went dry at the sight of that expression. He knew that look and, sure enough, there was a glint of mischief in Rupert's eyes.
"Yes?" Wesley said, though it came out rather more breathlessly than he'd intended. Breathless and hoarse. Lovely.
Rupert shook his head, nodding toward Wesley's legs. "I was momentarily thrust into the past."
Wesley glanced down at himself and laughed, only to stop quickly when it hurt too much. It seemed like years ago that he'd stumbled to Rupert's flat with a vampire bite in his thigh and a very large chip on his shoulder. Wesley hadn't even imagined, then, that it would turn out this way. "Well, I'm not planning on stealing anything tonight."
"That's a relief," Rupert said as he knelt down in front of Wesley, setting the first aid kit on the desk and opening it. He smiled and Wesley couldn't look away for a moment, couldn't stop remembering that first night, when Rupert hadn't smiled at him like that.
It made his stomach twist with remembered embarrassment, and even a little fresh discomfort. He couldn't regret it, though, not now that he and Rupert had worked it all out. Other memories rushed forward as Rupert began cleaning the scrapes. It stung, but Wesley had been through much worse and he held still, for the most part.
One particular memory pushed its way forward and Wesley smiled, reaching out a hand to tap Rupert on the temple. Rupert looked up at him, and Wesley blushed with the thought of what he was about to ask.
"Once, um, back then, you mentioned that . . . Uh, that you thought of me that night, after . . ." He wasn't sure what else to say. In fact, he seemed to have run out of words entirely. There was that mischievous tilt to Rupert's smile again.
"I did. Would you like to hear about it?"
Wesley opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. "Now?" he finally sputtered, unable to keep himself from returning Rupert's grin.
"Well, all right, if you insist," Rupert said, turning his eyes back to Wesley's scrapes.
"I wasn't--" Wesley began, but he decided to simply drop his protest when Rupert continued.
"You weren't bad company that night, and it had been such a long day. For about half an hour, we'd thought Willow was dead, a vampire. I ...."
"I remember. The vampire version of her attacked me at the high school." Wesley looked back on that now and cringed, but he knew that that misunderstanding must have upset Rupert very much. Willow and Xander were second only to Buffy in Rupert's esteem.
Rupert nodded, but didn't comment on that part of the night. His touch was gentle as he cleaned the scrapes, and his voice was husky as he continued.
"I'd just gone to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept . . . I kept thinking about Willow and what could have happened . . ." Rupert shook his head, giving Wesley a small smile as he reached for another antiseptic pad. "I was trying to think of anything but Willow and you popped into my head. Our conversation had been pleasant, if not thrilling, and you hadn't once criticized my methods or questioned my ability to do my job."
"I wasn't thrilling?" Wesley interrupted, feigning a look of affront. Rupert patted his thigh, well above the scrapes, and shrugged.
"We were only just getting to actually know one another and you were half-drunk, at least."
Wesley chuckled and then groaned as Rupert hit a particularly painful patch of abraded flesh. Rupert's voice quickly took his mind from the pain, though. "I thought of you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub with one leg of your trousers cut off, gripping a glass of Scotch as if it might save your life."
"I see," Wesley said, suddenly unsure he wanted to hear the story at all. Rupert hadn't thought much of him, then, and . . ."It must have been rather comical," he allowed, though he wasn't happy about the admission.
"Not really," Rupert said, his thumb brushing lightly over the only bit of undamaged skin on Wesley's right knee. "I did find it amusing, at first, but ... I'd been in that position myself more than once."
"What position?" Wesley had a sudden mental image of Rupert limping home from a fight, only with no one to patch him up. Rupert wouldn't go to the children, after all, and some things were hard to explain to a nurse. That had been the very reason that Wesley had gone to Rupert but, before he'd come to Sunnydale, where had Rupert had to go to?
"Wounded, unable to go to hospital, unwilling to go to Buffy," Rupert shrugged, but Wesley very much did not like that thought. "Although, you did succeed in outdoing me in one area," Rupert glanced up at him, and Wesley raised an eyebrow in question. "I'd never been wounded in quite so embarrassing a place."
Wesley sighed, but found himself smiling. The way Rupert looked at him as he said it, the way he was cleaning away the blood, Wesley knew Rupert didn't mean for the words to sting.
"Then, I thought of the look on your face when I'd knelt to see to the stitching." Rupert paused in his ministrations, but didn't look up. "I'd almost been worried that you'd faint. Not from the pain, you didn't seem to notice that, but the look on your face . . ." Rupert shook his head, going back to cleaning the scrapes. "I thought I'd seen . . . I don't know, a glimmer of interest?"
"Oh, I'd say it was well more than a glimmer," Wesley said, snorting and reaching down to brush his fingers through Rupert's hair. Rupert laughed, pressing into the light touch.
"I didn't know that. I thought you were entirely straight." Wesley snorted but, when Rupert looked up with a question on his face, he only motioned for Rupert to go on.
"I thought I was trying to turn things into something that would suit me better. I kept thinking of you lying down here on that lumpy sofa, still bewildered, your eyes far too wide for your own damned good."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wesley laughed, shaking his head as Rupert gave him a fond glare.
"You should look in the mirror more often," Rupert mumbled, though Wesley wasn't sure what that meant, either. "I'd been half hard since I'd lain down to sleep and, well, thinking of you hadn't really helped."
Wesley's laughter fled, his eyes fixed on Rupert's face, on the small smile Rupert had even as he finished with the right knee and went on to the left. Wesley couldn't help the way his stomach fluttered as he pictured it. Rupert lying up in his bed, his cock hardening at the thought of . . . Wesley tried to blink away the image when he realized that Rupert was talking again.
"--I'd had to bite down on my lip as I reached down to stroke myself. I didn't want to risk even a small sound. You know how sound carries here."
Wesley nodded mutely, his mind filled with the picture Rupert was creating. Rupert hadn't known what Wesley was getting up to down here. In Rupert's mind, Wesley had just been lying on the sofa and might have heard a gasp or a groan. Wesley shifted in the chair again, his cock beginning to harden at the thought, at the image of Rupert stroking himself just upstairs.
"I thought of you sitting on the edge of the bathtub while I knelt between your thighs. Just like this, actually."
Wesley opened his eyes at that, found Rupert looking up at him with dark, passion-filled eyes. Tension stretched between them as their gazes met. The room seemed filled with it, charged with it, and Wesley wanted to reach out, to touch Rupert's lips, to bring his own down for a kiss. He kept himself still through sheer stubbornness. He wanted to hear the rest of the story more than he wanted a kiss.
"In my fantasy, I looked up and found you watching me. You were flushed, but it wasn't from embarrassment." Rupert held Wesley's gaze. Wesley couldn't have looked away had a demon come crashing through the door. "I remember that my hand was resting on your knee, at the time, and I imagined running it upward, feeling warm skin and then the ragged edge of your trousers." Rupert's fingers slid along the inside of Wesley's thigh, demonstrating.
Wesley's cock throbbed and he had to stifle a groan, squirming in the chair as Rupert's fingers brushed over the growing bulge in his boxers. Wesley's eyes fluttered, but didn't close, not completely. He watched without a word as Rupert slipped his fingers inside, skimming them along Wesley's straining cock.
Wesley whimpered and Rupert swallowed hard, his fingers tracing the underside of Wesley's shaft, his thumb rubbing over the head before skimming slowly downward. Wesley's body felt tight, his muscles bunched and taut. Rupert kept looking at him and Wesley couldn't seem to draw in enough breath. He swallowed hard, only barely managing to say, "Keep talking."
Rupert grinned, his fingers sliding down Wesley's cock to brush lightly over his balls. "I pictured this, too. Watching you as your head tilted back, seeing your body strain forward, eager for me to touch you."
"God, yes," Wesley groaned, arching his hips up to get more of Rupert's far-too-light touches.
Rupert's breathing had grown ragged, too, and Wesley loved knowing he'd had that effect on Rupert, that Rupert was watching him like this and it excited him.
"I thought about something else, too," Rupert said, and Wesley found himself staring at Rupert's lips as they formed the words. Rupert wrapped his fingers around Wesley's cock, squeezing lightly. Wesley moaned, hips arching and heart pounding. "I thought of you hearing me, because I couldn't keep myself from groaning. Thought of you coming upstairs."
Wesley realized his hands were clenched tight on the arms of the chair, but he couldn't make himself let go. His cock throbbed in Rupert's grip and Rupert squeezed again, just a little harder. Wesley found himself panting. He needed more, needed to feel Rupert stroking him, feel Rupert's skin beneath his own hands. If he moved at all he knew he was going to give in, to pounce on Rupert, and then he might never hear the end of this particular story.
"You saw what I was doing, saw me touching myself, and your eyes widened. I even imagined the flush that would creep up your neck." Rupert reached his free hand up, brushing it along the collar of Wesley's shirt. Wesley ducked his head, licking a line up Rupert's finger and sucking it into his mouth. Rupert groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. His grip tightened around Wesley's aching cock and Wesley arched up as Rupert began stroking him in earnest.
Wesley swirled his tongue around Rupert's finger, exploring each knuckle before pulling back to suck on the tip. Rupert seemed to have trouble catching his breath. His eyes opened, but it was a moment before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was nearly as hoarse as Wesley's.
"In my fantasy, you stood there, your mouth open with no words coming out. Then you stepped toward the bed. Your eyes had focused on my hand, on the rough strokes of it around my cock."
Wesley moaned and Rupert's finger slipped from his lips. He tilted his head back, his hips arching up, demanding more. Rupert's strokes sped, the friction and heat sending jolts of pleasure through Wesley's body. He groaned, savoring the images Rupert made with his words, savoring the slow build of the fantasy while heat pooled in his groin and sparks lit along his nerves.
"I imagined you taking another halting step forward, swallowing so hard I could see your Adam's apple bob." Rupert's free hand slid down, rubbing briefly over one shirt-covered nipple before slipping lower to cup Wesley's balls. On each upstroke Rupert paused to swipe his thumb over the head of Wesley's cock. Each slick stroke made Wesley's heart pump faster, made his balls tighten.
"I pictured you watching me, pictured your tongue darting out along your lips. I wondered how your mouth would feel, so hot around my cock." Rupert's fingers were slick with pre-cum as he tugged and squeezed Wesley's cock. His other hand rolled Wesley's balls, dragging a whimper from Wesley's strained throat. Wesley choked back a groan as sensation flooded his body. "I imagined you taking that final step, felt you sit on the edge of my bed as you put a tentative hand on my thigh."
Rupert's voice filled his ears, painted pictures in his head, and Wesley moved his hips in time with Rupert's hand, arching harder and harder as he sped toward orgasm.
"You slid your fingers up my thigh and brushed against my cock. I imagined reaching out and taking your hand, guiding it round the shaft."
Wesley gasped, his eyes moving up to Rupert's face. Rupert's eyes were even darker, and Wesley knew that, had he been able to see, he'd have found Rupert hard. Wesley's body shook with the need to come. His blood rushed through his veins so quickly it sounded like static in his ears and he had to strain to hear Rupert.
"Your grip was light but, God, the look on your face made up for it. You were flushed, want naked in your eyes. The sounds you made, Wes ...." Rupert grinned, his fist tightening around Wesley's cock until it was just on the good side of painful. "I was right about that. They do drive me mad."
The orgasm slammed into Wesley hard. His body went taut with it, his hips and back arching as he came. He'd bitten his lip to keep quiet and he tasted blood, but it barely registered over the lightning that sparked beneath his skin. He groaned, shuddering as Rupert's hand kept moving, drawing out his orgasm.
"Oh, God, Rupert." Wesley let out a shuddering sigh and went still in the chair except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Rupert slipped his hands from Wesley's boxers, wiped them on an extra flannel from the first aid kit, and then cleaned Wesley off with gentle strokes. "I think we're done here. Why don't we go upstairs?"
Wesley gave a hoarse chuckle, sitting up though his body felt almost too boneless to achieve the feat, and finally leaned in for that kiss. Rupert's lips clung to his, warm and firm. Wesley raised a hand to rub along the light stubble of Rupert's jaw and his free hand slid down Rupert's chest, down to cup Rupert's cock.
"Oh, no," Wesley whispered against Rupert's jaw. "Now it's my turn to see to your . . . wounds."
Rupert laughed and Wesley smiled against his lover's neck. It seemed there were a few more things they needed to do, before falling exhausted into bed.